The Saga of Steelclaw: Fireheart
by Freelance Fanfictioner
Summary: Goliath and Demona are killed and find peace in the afterlife - but not so their son Steelclaw, who is determined to seek revenge for their deaths with the help of a certain Anne Canmore. Sequel to Unwilling Protector.
1. Farewell

Steelclaw stood alone, his hands leaning on the parapet. He didn't feel ready to join the others yet. He didn't want them to see him like this. He was a warrior, nearly of age, and he was not supposed to cry.

Not even when his father is on his deathbed.

Angela's footsteps behind him broke his resolution to remain in solitude.

"Brother," she said softly, "come quickly. His consciousness returned to him for the time being, and he is calling for us."

"I don't want him to see how weak I am," said Steelclaw, squinting hard, as if trying to block out the sun their kind never saw until the dawn of their death.

"You are not weak," his sister reached for his hand, "there is no shame in what you feel."

"You are so calm," he said, seeking for signs of distress on her face and finding nothing but sadness, "are you resigned""

"I am older than you," said Angela, "and I have had to deal with losing our mother. You were too young to be expected much of, at the time. Come now, brother."

Together, they descended to the chamber where Goliath was lying, surrounded by the whole clan. Hudson was there, and Brooklyn with his wife and their children, and Broadway with his and Angela's children, and Korian and Lexington. The warriors of the clan were without exception sporting some injuries, but no one was hurt as badly as Goliath in the battle with the Stonehammers. His wounds were fatal, he lost nearly half his blood, and it was well understood by all that he will not hold on till dawn. It was a miracle that he was still awake, though it was obvious the last bit of his strength was leaving him rapidly.

"My children," he said in a raspy, barely audible voice, "My daughter. My son. Come near me."

Angela and Steelclaw approached him, each kneeling on one side of his bed. Goliath held out both hands to them and looked up at their faces. Angela had lavender skin and black hair like him, and Steelclaw was broad of shoulder and square of jaw, with blue skin and red hair. But in the features of them both, all he sought and found was the face of his love.

"Angela," he turned towards his daughter first, tilting his head in an enormous effort, "I know you and Broadway will teach your children diligently. You both have made me proud."

Angela didn't reply, but pressed her lips to her father's hand, her voice choked with suppressed sobs.

"Steelclaw, my son," Goliath went on, looking towards the young male now. His son's features appeared to him blurry through a haze of pain. "You are young, but I am leaving you in the hands of Brooklyn. He will train you well. Remember whose son you are. Live for your clan, and your rewards shall be ample. Do not grieve," he held both tear-stained faces of his children within his faltering gaze, "I am going to where I belong… to where your mother is waiting for me."

His hands squeezed theirs in one last effort, then relented. His breath grew quick and shallow, then slower, ever slower. Then the warmth of life began to leave his still limbs.

Goliath, the great leader, was no more.

Angela and Steelclaw both got up from their knees. The only sound that dispelled the silence was the weeping of the Elder. Old, feeble and almost blind, he had lived long enough to know that in certain moments, there is no shame in grief.

"I saw him hatch," Hudson said hoarsely, "I never thought I would see him go."

He sat by the head of Goliath's bed, to be a silent vigil to this greatest and most beloved of all his apprentices.

Steelclaw raised a young, mighty fist.

"I swear," he said through clenched teeth, "upon my father's body, I swear I will avenge his death. The Stonehammers will pay."

There was honor in his words, yet Hudson shook his head.

"This is not what Goliath would have wanted," he said, "your father would have wanted you to promise him life, not death."

"Their death will guarantee our life," growled Steelclaw.

"Brooklyn, you are leader now," Hudson went on, "it is time to choose your Second in Command."

"Steelclaw will be my Second, once he is old enough," Brooklyn replied at once, "I will train him the way Goliath trained me."

"Then let us assemble to meet the dawn," called Hudson, and all the gargoyles joined hands in a circle, surrounding Goliath. They would all be there with him as he makes his last journey towards the sun.

Her head bowed, Angela remembered how, years ago, they all stood the same way, in that same room, on the horrible night when her mother was taken away from them.

Her death occurred under similar circumstances – she was killed in a fight with the Stonehammers, the group of vicious thugs blinded by mindless hatred and fear, who made it their goal to destroy all the gargoyles. It was instinct, ancient instinct of a protector, that made her leap forward and receive the blow that was meant for another – in the heat of battle, they didn't even realize who of their brothers it was. She stood on her feet till the end of the fighting, and no one understood at first how dangerous her wound was until they were back home. When the horrible realization dawned, the bustle stopped and they all stood there, waiting for the worst and hoping, against all odds, for the best.

No one dared to approach her and Goliath, who was kneeling by her and holding her hand, his eyes horrible black hollows, his face draining of blood as fast as hers.

"Hold on," he said in a strained voice, "hold on, my Angel of the Night, till dawn. You are mine, you came back to us, and no one will take you away again."

She smiled weakly and tenderly and sighed, and with the remainder of her strength, lifted her hand to cup his cheek. He caught her palm with trembling fingers and pressed it to his face.

"I hoped we would have longer, my love," she whispered, "but I had time enough to correct some of the wrongs I had done, and even to bring our son into this world."

"He needs you," Goliath's voice was broken, "he is too young to lose his mother. _I_ need you. We all do."

But something different, the glow of everlasting dawn, was already illuminating her face, and her pain was gone, and her eyes met Goliath's as she whispered the words that were most needed by him:

"More than anyone, they need _you_, my love. You are their leader. You must go on. Promise me."

And Goliath's face was contorted with suffering as he breathed out:

"I promise."

Her eyes opened wider, and her lips were almost bloodless as she said her last words:

"I am so happy."

Goliath threw back his head, and his howl of agony reached the stars.

… He chose his own place of mourning – the tallest tower of the castle, and for seven nights he didn't stir from there, eating and drinking only when pressed by Angela. She wondered what would become of him and of them all, but Goliath remembered his promise. At the end of a week he got up, and although he looked twenty years older and his face was gaunt, he was ready to resume the duties of a leader.

"She said she was happy," Angela kept reminding him, "and you know she was. She had managed to choose a different path, and from then and until her last day, she had nothing to regret. It matters, my father, does it not?"

He didn't reply. To him, all that mattered was this: he used to have her with him, and now she was gone where he could no longer reach her.

Goliath was never the same, yet he found comfort in his children, his clan and his duties, and led them through dark and dangerous times so valiantly that now, with him gone, they all felt lost.


	2. Eternal Dawn

Next thing Goliath knew, he was up on his feet and walking – not fast and not slow, with very firm yet light steps, on a solid surface. He was walking towards a source of light brighter than anything he had ever seen, and although the white brightness made it difficult to know exactly where he was headed, he had no doubt he was meant to go there.

The warmth on his face was heavenly, and although his eyes began to stream as he turned them upward and he could no longer see, he knew the source of blinding light was the sun.

He blinked several times and looked forward instead, and saw sea, cliffs, forest and sand, but there his observations stopped. He noticed a slender figure with a mop of red hair walking towards him on a strip of a sand, and without stopping to wonder, without weighing his possibilities or doubting and losing precious seconds, he rushed forward as fast as his legs would carry him.

His body felt very light and agile, as it had in his youth, rather than in the last years of his life, when certain stiffness and aches of various battle wounds set in. Within ten seconds, he was standing in front of her, and she was all loveliness, and her eyes shone with joy as she looked upon him.

With a cry of joy, he pressed her to his heart, wrapped his wings around her, inhaled the sweet scent of her hair.

"I don't care if this is real or not," he said, feeling the fluttering of her heart next to his own, "I don't care where we are. It is you, and if you are here, then so am I."

As he held her at arm's length to drink in the sight of her face, he saw his love was smiling, and her eyes were now brimming with tears of happiness. Like him, she was young, yet somehow different from how she was when he knew her as a lass. There was depth and wisdom in her gaze, as if she saw and understood more than she could tell.

"It is real," she said, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks to her smiling lips, "it is more real than anything you have ever experienced."

"But you and I," he frowned, a tinge of worry suddenly creeping into his mind, "we are dead, aren't we? So are we –"

"Ghosts?" said his Angel of the Night, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "Do you feel like a ghost? Do I look like one?"

"No," said Goliath, "but then, this is the strangest place… where are we, my love?"

"Can't you tell?" she smiled, gesturing towards the smooth, dark rocks, framed by the evergreen of pines and the bright blue of midday sky. It was the first time for him to see the place by daylight, but of course, he recognized it at once, and was astonished.

"But…" he hesitated.

"The castle isn't here," said his love, "but Wyvern Wood is all ours, and there are caves aplenty, where one can watch ripples of moonlight on the dark sea water, or the pink glow of sunrise on the horizon, followed by a gleaming red sun."

"I have no doubt it must be beautiful," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "but all I care about, all I want to see is you."

"Thank you, my love," she smiled, "but I assure you, there are many here whom you want to see, and who have been longing to see you – though not nearly as much as I," she added, tenderly caressing his face.

He looked at her, his heart full of doubt and hope – there was only one way he could interpret her words.

"You mean…"

"Everybody should be on the beach, right around that cliff," she said, pointing towards a large rock protruding over the sparkling blue of sea. "We have been expecting your arrival. Let's go."

She took his hand and led him on, and sand was soft under his feet, but that softness was nothing compared to her fingers entwined with his. From time to time they lingered to share a caress, a tender word of love, a reassuring glance, and their way took longer than it could have – not that time mattered much here. But eventually they reached their destination, and Goliath was overwhelmed.

His arrival was greeted with an uproar of delight, his hands were shaken, his shoulders thumped, his hair ruffled, his name called out from a hundred directions. Countless faces swam before his eyes, all achingly familiar, all beaming at him with the joy of reunion.

Slowly, he was beginning to recognize them, one by one. All his rookery brothers and sisters were here, and all whom he knew as elders, though here they looked young – or rather, ageless, but healthy and whole. All were wearing the same strange kind of white garb, and so were he and his beloved, he now noticed.

A thousand inquiries about those he left behind poured from every mouth; his brothers were talking to him and to each other, excited babble rising over the crowd, and he smiled back at them and said something, hardly knowing what he said, and his beloved stood next to him all the while, beaming and holding his hand.

"Cut it out," he finally heard the amused voice of someone he remembered as a grizzled one-eyed warrior, although here his hair was black and thick and he had both eyes, "let the lad eat something and get used to the place before jumping all over him."

And what made Goliath finally believe this was real, was the smell of fish being roasted over a small fire. There were fruit and berries and wild honey, and jugs of fragrant wine, and he ate and drank and talked with the others, hardly finding words to fit the moment, and his hand never left his wife's shoulder.

A female stepped forward, and in her beauty he didn't immediately recognize his old mentor's lost and bitterly lamented beloved.

"Did you leave your father well, Goliath?" she asked.

"As much as his age can reasonably permit," he replied, and boldly ventured, "yet the more time goes by, the more he misses you."

"I know it is selfish of me to wish to hurry the moment of coming together again," she said, tears sparkling in her eyes, "especially now that the clan needs him so. But over a thousand years have passed since I was parted from my love, and I am longing for him. No matter," she shook her head, "I know he thinks of his Angel of the Sea, just as I think of my Giant of the Mountains, every hour of every day. Our separation is drawing to an end one way or another, and our reunion will be sweet."

The feast went on under the open sky, and as the wine flowed everyone became merrier, until someone suggested a dance. But again the older warrior spoke, and he looked directly at Goliath.

"All the dancing and drinking can wait until tomorrow," he said, "today, I am sure, all the lad and lass want is to be alone."

He clapped Goliath on the shoulder again, gave him a small wink, and got up to leave. The rest followed suit, pressing his hand warmly, and disappeared into the forest.

"Isn't it a marvel, to see them all like this, happy, whole, and together?" whispered his Angel, tears welling up in her eyes again, "when I came, our mother – the one who spoke to you before, the wife of our old leader –"

"Hudson," prompted Goliath.

"Yes, of course," she smiled, "you see, names are losing their meaning to me, as it was in the best days of our life… but yes – she embraced me and called me her most beloved daughter, and only then, my soul found peace – the perfect peace I never had in the world of living, even though I was given the chance to atone for my sins and be together with you again, my love. There was still, always, the torment of guilt that couldn't disappear until I saw them here, in this place where my follies and crimes had no more meaning."

"But you haven't explained yet," Goliath shook his head, "what is this place? Is it… heaven?"

"It is now," she whispered, smoothing his hair, "that you are here. Before, it was just a place to be and wait for you."

"As the whole world had been to me since you were gone," he replied, pressing her hand to his heart.

"Oh, but you did so much more than just wait!" protested his beloved, "I was watching over you the whole time, and you were all that is just, brave, and good. I am so proud of you," she finished with a quiver in her voice, and added, "yet I am worried about our son, my love."

"So am I," he confessed, "but what can we do for him from here? He is now far beyond our reach."

"That is true," nodded his Angel, "there is but a faint connection between here and Avalon, and from there to the mortal world. All we can do is watch over the ones we love, and hope they do well, and perhaps, if there is a chance, to send them a sign."

"So what do we do now?" he asked quietly, stepping closer to her, so that their bodies almost touched. He had nearly forgotten the intensity with which every nerve of his responded to her presence.

"Now I take your hand," she said, looking in his eyes as she did that, "and ask you, my one and only love, to call me your Angel of the Day, as I have been until now your Angel of the Night."

"My Angel of the Day and Night," said Goliath, bringing together both her hands and holding them between his palms, "my Angel of the Sea and Sky, and of everything in between – please tell me, is this final? Will there be no more separation, no more pain?"

"My sweetest, my beloved, the one desire of my heart," she whispered, bringing her lips close to his, for a kiss in which all would be forgotten, "welcome home."


	3. The wanderer

"I'm worried about the young lad," Brooklyn said to Hudson.

"Aye," sighed the Elder, "I thought you might say that."

There was no need to specify which lad they were talking about, even though there were now four such in the clan: one son of Brooklyn and Aslaug, two of Angela and Broadway - and Steelclaw.

"He talks of nothing but revenge," said Brooklyn.

"The Stonehammers killed his mother and his father," Hudson replied, "you cannot blame him if he wants blood for blood."

"The Vikings killed nearly all our clan, and Steelclaw's mother sought revenge too, and we both know very well where it brought her," countered Brooklyn.

"Listen," said Hudson, "if you would take my advice, lad, I'll give it now, because my old bones are telling me I don't have very long left."

"Why are you talking like this?" protested Brooklyn. "Aren't you feeling well, Hudson?"

"I'm as well as I can be now," Hudson said calmly, "but I have a feeling I must prepare - no need to look so distraught, lad, I've lived a long life, and there are now many in the world beyond calling me to join them."

"I can't bear the thought of losing you too," Brooklyn admitted quietly, "so soon after Goliath."

"Don't you worry, lad," Hudson patted his arm reassuringly, "I still have a bit left in me. Not that you really need an old bag of bones like me - you are Leader now, and when Steelclaw is ready, you will have the best Second-in-command you can ever hope for. Sure, he might do some stupid things. All young ones do. But do not try to dissuade him, or to outsmart him. Talk to his heart. You are now the closest thing to a father he has."

... Talking to Steelclaw's heart was easier said than done. With each night that passed, he grew more reserved and silent, and the crease between his brows deepened. But one night, as he and Brooklyn trained together and Steelclaw won two times out of three, he gave his leader a hand, helped him up and said:

"I want you to tell me about my mother."

"Sorry?" Brooklyn blinked.

"You heard me."

"If you want to hear all about your mother," said Brooklyn slowly, playing for time, "you should ask Hudson. He had known her all her life."

"I think you know why I asked you," said the lad, "whenever we talked about her past, you wore the most curious expression, as though you know or understand something the others don't."

"If you mean the mistakes your mother made, it is something known to all."

"It sometimes seems to me almost as though you hated her," said Steelclaw, fixing his leader with a penetrating stare.

"I didn't hate her," Brooklyn shook his head, and in a heartbeat, confessed what he never talked of before. "I loved her."

Steelclaw looked at him, his face, so extraordinarily like his father's, showing an expression of deepest amazement.

"You..."

"Oh, I always knew she belonged to Goliath," said Brooklyn in a gesture of defeat, "she never had an idea... and I found my wife, Aslaug," he added as an afterthought.

"If I loved someone," frowned Steelclaw, "I would make sure she knew it."

"You are too young to speak about love," retorted Brooklyn.

"Maybe," Steelclaw said curtly, and Brooklyn suddenly thought of his eldest daughter, Olrun, who was but a year younger than this lad, and unless he was much mistaken, was eyeing him with special interest lately...

"The Stonehammers must pay for what they did," said Steelclaw.

"They will," promised Brooklyn, "but we mustn't act rashly." He didn't miss the dangerous flash in the lad's eyes, and it alarmed him.

"If becoming a leader instantly makes you speak like you are a hundred years old, I am not sure I ever want to be one," Steelclaw said scathingly.

"With this attitude, perhaps it is better if you never become one," Brooklyn replied calmly.

"I wanted to adhere to the ancient customs of our kind," said the young one, "and have no name. It were the humans who named me Steelclaw, and now I intend to prove," he finished with a mad gleam in his eye, "that this name was not given in vain."

... "But where would you go?" she inquired.

"This I can't tell you," Steelclaw said curtly. She frowned.

"Why mention it at all, then?" she said sulkily.

He looked at her. Olrun was tall and graceful, and there was power in every contour of her young body. Her hair was fair, her skin light green, and her eyes like black velvet under her long eyelashes. He reached for her hand and took it in his.

"I tell you this because I want you to know I'm going with a purpose," he said, "and also that I will return."

For a moment, she was reassured, but then another argument was on her tongue. "We are not meant to be alone. This is not the gargoyle way."

"It is not the gargoyle way to leave the deaths of our brothers and sisters unpunished, either," he retorted, "if this is the way things are done in this clan, I must go and make my own path."

"You won't do it alone," a voice suddenly sounded very close to them, and they jumped in surprise as Korian stepped out of the shadows. "If you would have me with you, I will come along."

Steelclaw grasped his hand in gratitude, but looked furtively at Olrun. He had more words on his mind, words Brooklyn claimed he was too young for, but now that Korian was with him, all he could say before they took off was goodbye.

He didn't mention the part about returning again. He simply hoped she would believe in it firmly enough to make it true.

After he was gone, Olrun stood still for a long time with her eyes closed, as if wanting to imprint his image on her mind. She knew she was dear to him, but not whether as much as he was to her.

They called him Steelclaw, but she had a different name for him: Fireheart, for his passion and quick temper, and now, she knew, this fire was consuming him and driving him towards one single purpose: revenge.

All she could do now was pray that this fire would not destroy him.


	4. The Hunter's daughter

"Gone?" Brooklyn's voice rose in dismay. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Don't tell me I didn't warn you," Angela said sharply. "I told you to keep an eye on him, and you didn't take me seriously."

"Korian has gone with him," spat Brooklyn. "I'll bet it was his doing, he's the one to start this business of wandering off for months without telling us what he's up to."

"You know it is different this time," countered Angela, "quite simply, Korian is the one who desires vengeance as much as Steelclaw. Olrun," she spoke gently to the lass, "did my brother drop any hint at all as to where he might be headed?"

"Because if he did, you had better tell us at once," added Brooklyn. Olrun shook her head.

"No," she said quietly, "he only said he will return."

"I don't doubt it," Brooklyn said tartly, "I just hope he returns in one piece."

"I think we all share this sentiment," noted Angela.

"Well, it's obvious where he's gone, isn't it?" Broadway walked in. "They went to find the Stonehammers. If we know where they are, we'll know where Steelclaw and Korian have gone."

"We have been trying to find the Stonehammers for years," said Brooklyn, "and I think we all agreed they aren't operating from a single base. This is precisely what makes them so evasive. Honestly, I don't know what this - this lad is thinking of, planning to take on them single-handedly."

"Perhaps this isn't his intention," suggested Broadway, "perhaps, once he realized you won't give him the support he wants, he went to find it elsewhere."

... Jason Canmore received him courteously, but there was a hint of reluctance in his eyes which Steelclaw despised.

"You know why I'm here, don't you?" he said.

"I have heard of your father's death," sighed Canmore, "and deeply regred it. I had great respect for Goliath."

"Yet you did nothing to prevent the Stonehammers from hunting us down," said Steelclaw sharply, his eyes alight, "you, who long ago extended a hand of peace to my father."

"And I kept my word," said Jason, "from that moment on, I have been a friend to the gargoyles."

"Not being an enemy does not make you a friend," said Steelclaw, "friends help when they are needed, and you could have helped us."

Canmore felt the justice of this reprimand, but he couldn't tell this young one why he kept so well away from the gargoyles, in particular after Elisa finally accepted his advances. Even now, the grief of his wife when she found out about the death of Goliath was too acute for a mere friend.

"What is it that you would have of me?" he asked wearily.

"Help," Steelclaw promptly replied, "I want to destroy the Stonehammers, to crush them. I want to avenge the deaths of my mother and father."

Canmore looked at him intently. Steelclaw had Goliath's heavy build, his square-jawed face and his raspy voice. But his coloring was his mother's, and it was her bloodthirst that Jason heard in the young gargoyle's voice. This unnerved him.

"What is your name, lad?" he asked.

"Our enemies call me Steelclaw," said the young one. Jason shook his head.

"This isn't right," he mused, "you shouldn't allow yourself to be defined by those who hate you."

"Will you, or will you not help me?" demanded Steelclaw.

"Look at me," the man faced him, and Steelclaw saw the graying hair, the wrinkled face, "my fighting days are over."

"I did not ask you to fight," said Steelclaw, "leave that to me."

Jason let out a sight. "My daughter, Anne Canmore, works in the NYPD," he said, "perhaps she knows something about where the Stonehammers case stands."

... "The Stonehammers? Why would you want to know about them?" Anne didn't understand. It has been many years since she and her father developed a relationship based on equal footing, fraternity and perfect unreserve.

Anne was lovely. With her mother's figure and her father's raven-black hair and blue eyes, she turned heads wherever she went, even when she wore her customary faded jeans with a black or grey turtleneck sweater.

"Well, strictly speaking, I am not the one who wants the information," said Jason, and gestured towards Steelclaw, who now stepped, cat-quiet, from a shadowy corner to dramatic effect.

Anne gave a startled jump, which was understandable. Steelclaw towered over both her and her father; he was over two meters tall, and almost as broad of shoulder as Goliath had been. But to Miss Canmore's credit, it must be said she got a grip on herself quickly enough, and extended a hand to the gargoyle.

"I have always wanted to meet one of you," she said, and her small palm disappeared in Steelclaw's taloned hand.

"My daughter, detective Canmore," Jason said fondly to Steelclaw. "You remember the stories your mother told you about Goliath, of course?" he turned to his daughter, "well, Steelclaw is his son."

"Oh!" Anne's eyes widened in understanding, "I am sorry for your losses."

"This is a kind thing to say," Steelclaw nodded appreciatively, "but as I have been saying to your father, words aren't enough."

"I think you had better go to Anne's apartment to talk," interfered Jason, "your aunt said she might be stopping by this evening, Anne, and I'm sure we are all keen to avoid giving explanations to Beth as to why there's a gargoyle in our living room."

In reality, he didn't want Elisa to see Steelclaw, and his wife was due soon to return from the gym, where he sent her to clear her head. He knew what painful memories might be stirred in her by seeing this gargoyle, so like her impossible love and her invincible rival.

... Anne Canmore's apartment wasn't messy, exactly, but there was an inch-thick layer of dust over all the furniture, and a musty smell suggesting the windows haven't been opened for a while.

"Sorry," Anne grinned apologetically, "I've been working long hours lately."

"It doesn't matter," said Steelclaw.

"So - erm - would you like a drink?" suggested Anne, who couldn't think of anything better to say to break the ice.

"Yes," Steeclaw shrugged, "anything."

"Beer?" offered Anne, taking two bottles out of a refrigerator that was nearly empty. She reached for a bottle opener, but Steelclaw wrenched the lids open with a lazy flick of his taloned thumb, and they both took a silent sip.

"So," said Anne after a pause, "I understand you want to find out more about the nutters who murdered your parents. I can more than sympathize, but the Stonehammers case isn't in my hands, and I'm new in the department, so..."

"So you are saying you won't help me?" Steelclaw said sharply.

"No," Anne placed her bottle on the counter and looked straight at him, "I'm saying I might get into very serious trouble if I do."

To this, he had no response. "Let's be honest," she went on, "you don't just want them prosecuted, do you?"

"To be frank," said Steelclaw, "I have no faith in a system of justice that has any punishment rather than death for such filth."

"So let's sum this up. You want me to help you find the leaders of the Stonehammers so that you can kill them," her voice rose slightly in irony.

"Yes," nodded Steelclaw, pleased that she grasped this so quickly, "does it make me insane in your eyes?"

"No," said Anne, and she spoke the truth. It made him admirable - and also highly dangerous, "but it might cost me my whole future."

"It might cose me my life," said Steeclaw, "but I'm still ready to go through with it."

"Well, it's your goal or whatever," she said, trying to feign indifference, "I, on the other hand, have nothing to do with it."

"Yet your mother, Elisa, was very much connected with our clan at one time," remarked the gargoyle, "my father told me about it many times, and he always spoke most highly of Elisa."

"Yes," Anne furrowed her brow and looked at him thoughtfully, "from bits and pieces I have heard over the years I've gathered that it was quite an extraordinary friendship... which makes me wonder why it was cut off before I was even born."

"I can't tell you anything about it," Steelclaw truthfully said, "that was before my time, and as far as my father was concerned, Elisa always remained his friend."

"Well, of course it was before your time," said Anne, "you are younger than me."

"I'm not so sure," he said, surprising her, "our kind don't grow old as fast as you do, because our metabolism stops completely during the day. I am not even of age."

"That explains a lot," Anne muttered, not exactly meaning for him to hear.

"Like what?" he asked sharply.

"Like why you came here on your own," she said, "the ones in charge don't approve of this plan of yours, do they?

"Our leader thinks we can evade the Stonehammers until someone finishes them off for us," said Steelclaw with a dangerous flash of his eyes and flexing of his claws, "but I find this idea an insult. So does my uncle, the only one of the clan who offered his help so far."

"Again, I more than understand," Anne looked at him thoughtfully, "those were your parents, and the Stonehammers are vile scum, but still, this doesn't sound like something I want to get involved in."

"I thought people come to work at the NYPD to uphold justice?" he threw at her.

"It's not so simple, see," reasoned Anne, "each sees justice in his own way, and that's why we have laws, legal processes..."

"Then you make complicated that which ought to be simple," snarled Steelclaw, "blood for blood!"

"Rest assured, the Stonehammers won't go unpunished," promised Anne, but she knew it sounded feeble.

"You know your law doesn't count my kind the same way as humans!" he exclaimed. "In the eyes of your system, we aren't considered intelligent, feeling creatures - we aren't important enough!"

Anne was silent, her heart thumping loudly. She knew she couldn't do what he was asking her to do, and it was absurd and unfair that she should feel so guilty about it.

"I see," he finally said, in a voice empty of emotion, and turned to leave, "well, I can't blame you. I am nothing to you, after all. But I'm still going to do it. I swore a solemn oath next to my father's body, and nothing will dissuade me."

His hand was already on the door handle when Anne finally found her voice.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, breathing fast as though she'd run a mile.


	5. The lost friend

Jason Canmore frowned. The idea didn't appeal to him in the slightest.

"I don't understand," he said, "why on earth would you want to come out of retirement?"

"I told you, I was asked to," said Elisa, "things are getting crazy in the department, what with those Stonehammers and the immigrants gang..."

"I thought now that Anne is there, our family is giving enough of itself to law enforcement."

"Anne is brilliant, Jason, but she is young, and that's the problem right now - too many young people to train, and now enough old hands to do that."

"But you have enough on your plate as it is, honey," he said in one last effort to dissuade her, "the house renovations, and your parents' health issues, and helping Rick write out his college applications..."

"It will only be temporary," promised Elisa, patting him reassuringly on the arm, and he knew the matter was closed. Once his wife set his mind on something, he had no hope of influencing her.

"When we both retired last year," he said, "I thought that now these two old people have earned the right to a quiet life. We talked of going to Baja California as soon as Rick moves out..."

"We'll do that," Elisa smiled, "soon, you'll see. We'll take a break from the cold dreary winter and fly down to see some sun."

For a minute, he didn't say a thing, and his wife began to worry that she had disappointed him more than she thought.

"All these years, Liz," he finally said in a completely different tone, soft and, it seemed to her, wistful, "have you been happy?"

She pressed his hand affectionately. "Do you really need to ask?" she said. "I can't count all the times I've told myself how glad I am you were so persistent."

Hearing this was reassuring, because just as many times he had asked himself whether he ought to have courted her as aggressively as he did, which basically left her no option for escape, especially considering the state of disappointment she was in when Demona returned to the clan - and to Goliath. Back then, Jason acted like a man focused entirely on one single goal and unprepared for the option of defeat, but later, during their engagement, he wished Elisa had taken a more active part entering into it.

But all that mattered now was that they were looking back on a lifetime of happiness: thirty years of marriage, two wonderful children, and a bond of love and friendship stronger and more wonderful than he could have imagined. He knew it would come to pass, he thought, from the moment he first saw her, slender, dark-eyed and striking, and his heart first stopped, then raced.

"Jason?" his wife's voice broke through his reverie.

"Yes?"

"I think... I think I ought to go and see them," she said quietly.

It took a second for her words to register, but once they did, he could have no doubt as to whom she meant.

"Yes," he said again, after a moment's pause, "I think you should."

... Elisa felt an upsurge of bittersweet memories threatening to flood her as she saw the stone outline of Castle Wyvern; it was here that she spent many nights with her friends, working together, talking, laughing, making plans... and Goliath, his steady, reassuring presence, was always there.

She ascended the steps quietly. All was very still and silent, and she already assumed everybody must be out, when she spotted a gargoyle with a skin of brick red, and a mane of white hair. He was altered, but not so much that she wouldn't recognize him at once.

"Brooklyn!"

He turned around, and the expression of puzzlement on his face changed into recognition and then incredulous delight, and he opened his arms in a gesture of welcome. They embraced, each clinging to the shadow of a long gone, deeply lamented past.

"Elisa! It's incredible to see you! I wondered whether," his voice faltered, "whether you have heard..."

"I found out shortly after it happened," she replied in a choked voice. "Brooklyn, it's lucky I find you alone - you are the one I most wanted to talk to. I know right now you must feel the burden more than anyone."

"Yes," he nodded gravely, "for us all, it is a terrible loss. As for Goliath..." he paused. "I know it will sound awful to you, but I'm so convinced he is better off where he is now that I'm almost sorry this didn't happen earlier. He never got used to living without her," he added slowly.

"No," whispered Elisa, "he never did."

"You know," Brooklyn said thoughtfully, "all the time she was back with us, I was always alert and wary, expecting a betrayal. But it never came. And on the night she was killed," his words came out shaky, "it was me she sheltered with her body. It all happened so quickly, I'm not sure any of the others were aware of it then."

"I was madly jealous of her," confessed Elisa, "that was why I - I couldn't bear to stay near you after she was back in the clan. I... I always wondered what you all thought of me, dropping out of touch as I did."

"You don't have to explain, Elisa," Brooklyn said gently, "I know what Goliath was to you."

"I could never have had him," Elisa smiled sadly through her tears, "after all these years, I understand it more clearly than ever before. He had always belonged to her."

"And she to him," added Brooklyn.

"I want you to know," said Elisa, reaching for his hand, "that even though I've been out of contant, I've always kept an eye on you guys. The Stonehammers have been persecuting you, and they will be punished. I came out of retirement on purpose to see to that. My daughter, Anne, is now working in the department as well, and I might get her involved in the investigation."

"Good," Brooklyn nodded with satisfaction, "and might not we do something too?" he asked. "I confess I'm itching to get my hands on those bastards."

"Maybe," Elisa said uncertainly, "but they are targeting you, so keep a low profile. We will stop the Stonehammers. You have my word."

"Now, if only I had a way to let Steelclaw know!" said Brooklyn. "He is Goliath's son - and he disappeared to look for the Stonehammers two nights ago. We haven't heard from him since."

Elisa's expression darkened. "That's bad news, Brooklyn. He might get himself into serious trouble."

"Tell me about it," Brooklyn shrugged bitterly. "My only comfort is that the lad isn't quite alone. Korian had gone with him."

"The blood brother of Demona?"

"It has been many years since I called her that," said Brooklyn, and paused, "but yes, her brother. When she was killed, he was mad with grief and rage almost as much as Goliath. I worry about Steelclaw, Elisa - imagine his father's heart and his mother's temper, combined in a body of a warrior who can, young as he is, crush me left-handed."

"I hope he returns soon," said Elisa, with a crease between her eyebrows. "There's no way he can stop them on his own, and it's better if he realizes it sooner rather than later. And I would like to see him," she added as an afterthought.

"You will," promised Brooklyn, "and tonight, you will meet everybody else."

The hour was already nearing midnight, but Elisa felt wide awake. There were times when she hunted by night and slept by day, just as these friends of hers, alien of race but kin of heart. She and Brooklyn stood side by side and waited, silent, for a rustle of leathery wings beating closer.


	6. Night's darkest shade

Brooklyn well remembered that horrible time, which left a gaping hole of mystery in all the scientific explanations that followed it. Only they, the gargoyles, and a handful of others, knew the truth.

One night descended upon Manhattan in warm velvety blackness. And some hours later, the moon and stars faded away, but the dawn failed to arrive. And it was cold, bitterly, freezingly cold. It was as though a black fist reached out and choke the living light of day. This extraordinary phenomenon only covered the boundaries of the city. People panicked, politicians made declarations, scientists spoke themselves hoarse, but no one could properly explain what was happening, and why.

It lasted a day, and two, and three. The gargoyles were exhausted. Without sunlight, they couldn't take advantage of the supreme rest that stone sleep gave them, and had to settle for the pitiful slumber humans called sleep. They woke up tired, unrested, and sore. Aslaug was the only one who seemed to be coping tolerably well.

"In Norway, where I came from, we have days in the middle of winter when the sun never rises," she explained, "and in the summer, nights when the sun doesn't set."

"But that's natural order," said Goliath, "what we have here looks like the blackest sorcery," he shot a furtive look in the direction of Demona. "My love, do you have any way to... explain what is going on?" he asked carefully.

His voice was mild, but Demona's eyes shot daggers as she glared back. "Are you accusing me?"

"No," Goliath sounded strained now, "merely suggesting that of us all, you are the most knowledgeable when it comes to dark magic."

She looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, as a matter of fact, I... there was a spell I once thought of - a spell that would enable me to delay stone sleep... I never finished working it out, as it called for the most treacherous demon, the Shadowbinder... I'm afraid, however, that the rudiments of this magic could have ended up in the hands of - of certain... unsavory elements."

"Why am I not surprised," Brooklyn lashed out, "to learn it's all your bloody fault?" He never quite trusted Demona, and never would again, even though it has been years since she returned to the clan, and she and Goliath now had another little child, a son to whom they, in the ancient custom of their kind, had not given a name.

"You will watch your tongue when talking to my wife," Goliath growled dangerously.

"I am only guilty of sketching this spell," said Demona, "it is out of my power to control its development and use."

"But who would want to darken an entire city? And why?" wondered Broadway.

"Xanatos?" suggested Lexington.

"Why would you suspect Xanatos?" frowned Angela.

"No particular reason. It looks like his kind of thing, that's all."

"Xanatos is a friend to us now," said Goliath, "he has not given us reason to think ill of him in the past years."

"Do not delude yourself," countered his beloved, "with Xanatos, you can never know for sure whether he is your friend or your enemy. This is what makes him so dangerous."

"And here's the pot calling the kettle black," Brooklyn said acidly, but was rendered silent as Goliath shot him a murderous look.

"It is true for all humans, come to think of it," Demona went on as though she hadn't heard, "I have met very few whom I could trust."

"You are taking this too far, my love," said Goliath, "our clan has fast and loyal human friends. Elisa, Matt and Mary and David have done a lot for us."

"Oh, Elisa is a friend indeed," Demona's eyes flashed, "such a friend that she never shows her face here anymore. Not that I have any wish to see her," she added.

"I have heard from her recently," Brooklyn coughed in sudden embarrassment. "She... well, perhaps this isn't really important right now, but... I thought you'd like to know this. She's marrying Jason Canmore."

"The Hunter," Demona's fists balled. "Such is the value of human friendship."

"Jason Canmore is now no longer an enemy to us," Goliath said sternly, "I wish both him and Elisa very happy."

"Well, one thing is certain," said Korian, "the city's in chaos. All crimes are easier to cover in the dark, and we are too tired to deal with as much as we're used to."

They did, eventually, find the magical laboratory, and managed to thwart the spell, ward off the Shadowbinder and gather the spell casters (who had nothing to do with Xanatos) into custody. And in the heat of battle the Stonehammers joined, and Demona jumped forward to receive the lethal blow that was meant for Brooklyn, condemning him to a lifetime of guilt.

During that first horrible week after losing her, Brooklyn had not thought he would dare to seek out Goliath. He only did that when pressed by Angela.

"He will want to talk to you," she said in a tremulous voice, "I... I feared to go near him too. He says he wants to be left alone, and no doubt that's how he feels right now, but he needs us to be near. He mustn't be left to himself for too long."

Brooklyn made the ascent to the tower on foot, relishing the hard labor of the climbing the stairway. He found his leader hunch-shouldered, hollow-eyed, with twice as many threads of silver in his raven-black hair than were seen a mere week ago. Upon hearing footsteps, Goliath turned his head to see who had entered, then looked away.

"If you want me to go, just say so," Brooklyn hastened to say.

"No," said Goliath in a flat voice, "you can stay."

"She... it was me they meant to kill," Brooklyn said quietly.

"They meant to kill us all."

"But that - that moment, when she jumped forward... she needn't have done that, but she must have seen no other way..."

"No other way to save you but to shield you with her own body. Do not blame yourself. She would have done the same for any of us. Any of her clan."

"I know that now," Brooklyn's voice was almost broken, "I wish I had realized this earlier."

"You thought I was a fool to bring her back, I know," said Goliath, "a fool to ever love her."

_If you were a fool, what does that make of me? _"Goliath, I didn't..."

"No. There is no need to lie now. She could not change the past, but she was no longer capable of doing what she once would have done in a blink of an eye. She brought savor back to my life. She had made me feel _alive_ again... I just wish we hadn't been so stubborn for so long."

Brooklyn stared at his leader, and wish a horrible, sinking feeling realized that Goliath, although still powerful, is now a mere shadow of his former self. The flame of his life, his truest essence, was extinguished with her death.

Goliath seemed to guess what he was thinking. "Do not worry," he said with a ghost of a smile, "she must have known that if I had my way, I would have met the last dawn with her. That was why she bade me to go on. From this moment, I am nothing but your leader. I live and die for my clan."

And so he did. And if there was a shred of justice in this universe, Brooklyn thought, his leader and mentor was now at peace, gliding about moonlit meadows hand in hand with the one who blossomed for him like a fragrant flower in the darkness.


	7. A dangerous mind

"You look tired," said Jason as he and his daughter stood side by side in the kitchen, washing and drying dishes. Anne ate dinner with them that night, as she often did, and afterwards Elisa headed off for an early shower and bed, and Rick retreated to continue filling out college applications in his room, which left Jason and Anne in charge of the cleanup.

Her father's remark was an innocent one, but Anne realized all too well in which direction the wind was blowing. "I've had a lot of work lately," she replied indifferently.

"I know you've been seeing him," said Jason, and by his daughter's expression he knew she understood him perfectly, "do you remember he has a ... clan? A family? Your mother has been in touch with them lately.."

"Has she?" Anne's expression was curious. "How come, after losing contact with them all those years ago?"

"This isn't the point," persisted Jason, "they are worried. They want to know what is going on with him."

"This is none of their business, Daddy," Anne said firmly, "if Steelclaw doesn't want them to find out what he is up to, they had better not meddle."

"I'm afraid your new... friend is dragging you into something you had better stay out of." The expression of defiance made his daughter's eyes look so like his own it was almost unnerving to glance into them.

"Steelclaw would never hurt me," Anne said solemnly, "he is kind and brave."

Jason said nothing, but his disquiet grew. He wanted justice to be done too, and the Stonehammers caught and put to trial. He wanted this story to be over, so that the gargoyles would be out of his life, this time forever.

"Whatever you do," he finally ventured to say, "remember that Steelclaw isn't human. His mind doesn't work the same way ours do. These differences can be crucial."

"You don't like them, do you?" observed Anne through narrowed eyes.

Jason groped for words. Was it finally time for the confession he withheld for so long? "Anne," he said, "I belong to a family that has pledged to eliminate all the gargoyles, many generations ago. My ancestors killed nearly all who remained in Britain and Scotland, and I have come to Manhattan to finish the job."

Anne looked at him, frozen in shock and horror. "It makes you no better than the Stonehammers, then," she said quietly.

"No, _listen_. I have seen the wrong of my ways, I repented, I asked for Goliath's forgiveness and changed the whole course of my life. Largely it was thanks to your mother, she was the one who lifted the veil of mindless hatred that was blinding me and made me see reason. I grew to appreciate the gargoyles, admire them even, and I was sorry for what happened to Goliath. But I never _liked_ them, no. I preferred that Elisa and I should stay well away from them. I implore you to do the same."

"Don't worry, Dad," Anne said confidently, "I know what I'm doing."

Jason shook his head, and prayed it was so.

... "Well, this is good news, isn't it?" said Steelclaw. "If your mother is working in the department again, and the Stonehammers are under her responsibility, this makes it easier for you to find things out."

"This also makes it easier for my mother to notice if I'm up to something fishy," replied Anne, and for the time being, he was rendered silent.

They were sitting at the kitchen table in her apartment, staring at the screen of a laptop which showed a certain map Anne had procured from the web. The table was littered with other maps, diagrams, notes and empty cups and glasses.

Her father was right. She did spend a lot of time with Steelclaw - nearly half of each night. Sometimes he came together with Korian, but mostly alone. During the day, the gargoyles used as a hideout an old apartment which used to belong to Steelclaw's mother.

Anne admired his courage and was frightened by his recklessness. When he spoke, anything he said made sense, including taking on a hundred Stonehammers single-handed. When he was silent, common sense returned to her for a while and she thought with horror that she is helping him forward a plan that was most definitely illegal and potentially lethal.

But never, not for a fleeting moment, did it occur to her to use the quick escape route from this situation and put a stop to Steelclaw by alerting his leaders of the young gargoyle's whereabouts. This option was not practical, since she has been introduced to the clan.

"My mother took me to see them two nights ago," she told him, "I met your sister Angela, and saw photographs of both your father and your mother. You have your mother's coloring, but you look just like Goliath. They say you have his spirit too."

"If I can be but half of what my father was," said Steelclaw, "I will think my life well lived."

... "Anne told me they will be transferred to another prison three nights hence," Steelclaw told his uncle, "the moment they are led out to the car must be seized. There will be no other chance for us."

"Good!" said the older warrior, squeezing Steelclaw's shoulder so tight it almost hurt. "We will be ready. And now, nephew, I have a pleasant surprise for you."

He strode to the door of the back room and opened it, and out of it came Olrun. For a second, Steelclaw couldn't exhale, astonished as he was. He saw how her eyes shone when they were cast upon him, and his heart leapt; yet he could not conceive of a less opportune moment for such a meeting.

"Olrun!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? How did you find out..."

"Well, I fancy some fresh air, as it happens," said Korian with a twinkle in his eye, and slouched out of to the terrace.

They were left alone, and his heart beat faster, yet he said nothing. Just looked at her and waited. "Korian sent me a message and told me where I could find you. He knew I would never betray you. It's a good thing he told me where you are, too, because I was going out of my mind with worry," she added fiercely. The warmth of her voice made his heart pump faster.

"I'm fine," was all he managed to squeeze out.

"I don't know exactly what you and Korian are planning to do," Olrun went on, "but whatever it is, let me stay with you and help."

"No," he said, more sharply than he had intended, "it's too dangerous, Olrun. I must do this alone."

"You aren't doing it alone," she countered, and there was a steely edge to her voice he had seldom heard before, "Korian is with you, and so is Anne. She came to see us, you know. She's a pretty good actor, too, because my father talked of you half the time and she hardly even blinked."

"Anne is a detective," said Steelclaw, "she must be an expert in that sort of thing."

"Oh, I see," said Olrun, quite icily, her arms folded across her chest, "she is a _detective_, so that's why she's fitter to stand by your side than your own rookery sister!"

"It isn't like this," Steelclaw shook his head, feeling defensive, "I asked her for help because I knew otherwise I have no way to reach those bastards."

"And she agreed to help you?" Olrun's eyes were narrowed with suspicion. "Does she know what you intend to do to them if you get your hands on them?"

"Yes," said Steelclaw. "Anne is just. She knows the human law does not have adequate punishment for evils committed against our kind. She believes I deserve a chance to take matters into my own hands and do what is right. You know that for me, seeing them stopped isn't enough," he lowered his voice, "I want blood."

"So what shall I do?" tears sparkled in Olrun's eyes now, sudden as dew on midnight grass. "Stand aside and watch you get yourself killed?"

His expression softened and he reached for her hand. "Go home, Olrun," he said, "I will return soon, and the murderers of my parents will be dead."

She wrenched her hand free. "I don't care if _they_ are dead," she said hotly, "it's more important that _you_ are alive."

Having said this, she strode past him to the terrace and took off without so much as a glance in the direction of Korian, who then entered the room once more, his expression puzzled.

"The lass seemed to be in quite a temper as she left," he remarked.

Steelclaw was spared the necessity of answering, for at that very moment the phone rang. It was a call they both had long awaited. Anne's voice was on the other side of the line, and she only said six or seven words before hanging up. Steelclaw raised his eyes to meet Korian's, and a smile of grim satisfaction spread upon his face.


	8. The face of never

The two gargoyles waited without moving or making a sound, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The object of their carefully thought-out planning was due to appear every moment, and tension mounted high, so when Steelclaw felt a hand on his shoulder, he jumped and turned around lightning-quick.

"It's only me," he heard a familiar, soothing whisper.

"Anne!" he exhaled in relief. "You didn't have to come."

"You are taking a terrible risk," she said, "I don't want to leave you alone." It went without saying, of course, that she was taking an immense risk as well, and he pressed her hand in thanks.

"Pay attention!" hissed Korian. "They are coming!"

And indeed, the doors opened and a procession walked out - seven men, flanked by two others. The gargoyles rushed forward, the younger drawing out his gun. Steely his claws might be, but he didn't rely on them alone during battle.

And then, gunshots filled the still night air, and Steelclaw heard his uncle's gasp of pain - and then he lost his head, and everything turned into chaos. There was screaming, and hurried footsteps, and more gunshots, and next thing he knew, the prisoners were ushered into the police car, and it revved and was gone.

Steelclaw roared with rage and frustration, but then he heard Korian's choked voice calling him. His uncle was kneeling, and for one horrible moment Steelclaw thought he was badly injured. But then he noticed that Korian was supporting someone else, someone who was lying limp and still.

"No," whispered Steelclaw in horror, dropping to his knees as well, "no..."

Her eyes found his, and for a moment it seemed she was about to say something, but she never did. Her lips remained slightly parted as her eyes grew glassy, empty spheres reflecting the moon they could no longer see.

Stupefied, aware of nothing, he remained by Anne, holding her hand, and was only dimly aware of the voice of Korian, who had one hand on his shoulder.

"Let me look at you, lad. You're hurt bad."

Only then did Steelclaw realize that the blood covering his hands was not only hers, but also his own. And then pain came, but not for long, because he sank into a black pit of unconcsiousness, and his last coherent thought was that he hoped he was dying.

... When he woke, he was back at his clan's home, and his wounds were neatly bandaged. Hudson was sitting by his bed, and as soon as he stirred, the old gargoyle rushed to his side. His head felt very sore, and so was his right shoulder and wing, through which a bullet had apparently come right through.

"Lie still, lad," said Hudson in a concerned voice, "dawn is only a short while from now, it will heal you."

"Did Korian get back alright?" Steelclaw asked anxiously.

"Yes, he was the one who brought you here. He is unhurt. You were both very lucky, lad."

And though no reproach was meant in those words, Steelclaw turned away, and hot tears of grief and guilt filled his eyes. Hudson looked away pointedly, his heart heavier than it has been in years. He felt very sorry for this young one, who had learned, much like his mother before him, that smart plans might backfire, causing the loss of innocent lives.

"Take it easy, lad," he advised, squeezing Steelclaw's good shoulder with surprising strength, "dawn will come soon."

Like never in his life, Steelclaw longed for the dawn. He wanted to sink into nothingness - to do, feel, and be nothing. He wished he would enter a spell of enchanted sleep like his father once did, a thousand-year long sleep as an unmoving statue, while the world around him crumbles, burns and rises from the ashes again. Yet he felt that even ten centuries wouldn't be enough to erase his burning shame.

Dawn brought no relief. When he woke again at sunset, Brooklyn came to him, and his words were worse than the hottest outburst of fury or the most bitter accusations.

"Anne's mother is here, Steelclaw. She wants to see you."

He braced himself for a meeting with the one who must consider him as the worst scum that ever walked upon the earth, but instead found himself face to face with a little gentle-looking woman with greying hair and a sad smile. He felt as though a dagger was thrust through his heart; Elisa's skin was darker than Anne's had been and her eyes were black, not blue, but the delicate features were the same, and he knew this is how Anne would have looked if she had been given the chance to live life, to work, bear children, and grow old.

He wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck in his throat. Elisa approached him, and looked as though she knew him. She lifted her hand, and her fingers touched his face.

"If I could bring Anne back by giving up my own life, I would," Steelclaw said finally, yet he could hardly think of a time his words had less meaning.

"Goliath lives on in you," Elisa said almost dreamily, and lowered her hand, yet continued to stare at him as if mesmerized.

"I didn't want this to happen, I told her she didn't have to be there," words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, "I know now my plan was foolish, I placed vengeance above the safety of those I should have protected... it was all my fault..."

He broke down and sobbed, unable to say more. Elisa stared at him, feeling oddly numb. She had just lost a daughter, yet here she was, in the position of comforter, soothing grief and assuaging guilt. Like this young one, in their home Jason collapsed and wept with bitter regret for not telling her all he knew while there was still time to stop the youthful foolish schemes. And similarly to what she did then, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and said:

"It wasn't your fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I shouldn't have abandoned my friends, I should have continued being involved with the clan, I should have done everything in my power to promote the safety of your kin. If I had continued along this path thirty years ago, the Stonehammers might not have existed at all, and you might still have had both your parents."

He looked at her, not quite understanding. "Why did you cut contact with us?" he asked.

"Because of your father," she said simply.

"Why?" Steelclaw continued inquiring, mostly to take his mind off his own enormous guilt, even for a moment. "Did my father do anything to offend you?"

"No," sighed Elisa, "he was always a good, true friend. I thought he cared for me, and he did - but it was your mother he loved, and once this became clear to me, I felt I can no longer remain in touch."

Steelclaw didn't reply, but sat listening intently, and an understanding dawned upon him.

"When Jason and I married, we thought it would be better for everyone if we didn't keep in touch with the clan," she smiled slightly, a smile that broke his heart, "it is obvious there are some things from which you cannot escape."

"If only I didn't..." Steelclaw started again, shaking his head, but she hushed him:

"You never meant for it to happen. All along, it was a tragic mistake. The men who were responsible for the transfer of the prisoners work in our department, they knew Anne, and they are devastated by what had come to pass. They shot in self-defense. No one meant to harm Anne, it just... happened."

She spoke so calmly it sent shivers down his spine. Unaware of this, Elisa continued. "One of the men who had been arrested, the supposed leader of the Stonehammers, managed to escape, but it is hoped he will be located before long."

Steeclaw bowed his head. This was the final blow - his own folly led to his enemy's escape. Never before had he felt so childish, so immature, so utterly worthless, so terribly guilty.

"I must go back now," Elisa said, "for the time being, I don't feel easy leaving my husband alone for long. I'll just tell you this: Anne was the light of our lives. Make sure she didn't die in vain."

He raised his eyes to her. Intense suffering and a mute question could be read in them. "How do I do that?" he asked.

"By being your father's son," Elisa said, squeezed his hand, and walked out.


	9. Mists of Avalon

He longed to see the faces of his loved ones, but he didn't dare to look them in the eye. Ever since his return, he has been staying in the wing of Castle Wyvern where, although he didn't know it, his mother once stayed at her time of grief and repentance.

He had not seen Olrun on the first, nor the second night since he came back, but on the third night, she came to him.

He looked up, and despite his sadness and shame, his heart fluttered. Imperceptible magic was working its way between him and the rookery sister he had known all his life. His affection for her and admiration of her grace and beauty was becoming something else, something different, almost frightening in its power. Yet now, of all times, he felt smaller and more insignificant than ever before.

Olrun stood in front of him, beautiful and silent, and only her eyes shone with tears of mercy he did not feel he deserved. He averted his eyes from her, but she stepped up closer, took his face gently in both hands and made him look straight at her.

"You'd better go," he forced himself to say, her caresses making him burn with guilt like nothing, not even talking to Elisa, had done.

But she didn't go. "Steelclaw," she whispered.

"No," he said suddenly, "Jason was right. I should let the ones who love me give me a name, not my enemies. From this day on, I don't want to be known as Steelclaw. Not to you."

"I have always thought of you as Fireheart," said Olrun, "but you must have another name, one you give to yourself."

For a few moments he was silent, lost deep in contemplation. Then he looked up at her and said: "Samson. I shall be Samson."

"Samson Fireheart," echoed Olrun and smiled, "that is a good name."

Her fingers brushed against his lips, and gently, reverently, he kissed them for the first time.

... "Allow me to go," he pleaded with the leader, "I can't bear to stay here."

"It is cowardice," frowned Brooklyn.

"No," said the lad, "it is penitence. Are you afraid I might do something foolish again?" he asked. "It won't happen. From now on, I assume your authority over me as my rightful leader and my mentor, as my father instructed me to do, and as I should have done from the start. And if you forbid me to go, I will submit, but I ask you to let me take this journey."

Brooklyn said nothing for a long time, then sighed. "But where is it that you set your mind on going?"

"To Avalon," replied the young one.

"What about Olrun?" asked Brooklyn, acknowledging for the first time the connection between his daughter and this lad, who had for so long been proud of the name Steelclaw.

"I told her of my intentions," replied Samson, "and she understands."

... They all came to bid him farewell, and the boat that was to take him to Avalon was already waiting.

"Be well, my brother," said Angela tearfully, embracing him, "give my love to... to all our kin on Avalon. Heaven knows I have wanted to go and visit them many a time during all those years, but I was always needed here." Her eyes met Broadway's, and an understanding glance and a smile passed between them.

"You will be missed," said Broadway, pulling him in a one-armed, bone-crashing hug, "Samson."

Olrun said nothing, merely extended her hand in a gesture of farewell. Samson caught it gratefully and pressed his lips to it. He, too, felt no need for more words. All was said and settled between them, and she knew he would come back.

The parting, though, was bitter, and once the currents began to carry him away, her tears blurred her vision for long minutes. When she had finally managed to blink them away, the boat was but a speck of black in the grey mist that was carrying her beloved away to Avalon.


End file.
